


snow & salt

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Huddling For Warmth, Kissing, M/M, Married Life, Neck Kissing, Praise Kink, Soft Kylux, Winter, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27932524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: Husbands Ben and Armitage indulge their soft, sweet, silly side as they cuddle in a blanket fort.-For the Kylux Advent Calendar Day 6 Prompt "Cosy."
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: Kylux Advent Calendar 2020





	snow & salt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [salt air](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814932) by [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer). 



> For those of you who don't already know, I (sternfleck) am the AO3 user formerly known as celestialpabulum. Since I'm running the Kylux Advent Calendar event this December, I decided to permanently change my AO3 username to match my twitter and tumblr names, for cross-platform consistency. I hope this isn't too confusing. Thank you for being flexible with the change.
> 
> I'm also in the middle of moving to a new city a few hours away, so, just a short ficlet this time. More works to come in the new year.
> 
> For now, here is a small, very soft instalment of the salt-verse series [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer) and I write with and for each other.

If it weren’t for the twinkle of string lights glowing along the edge of the draped folds of sheets, Armitage would consider the construction a mess. It’s an unreasonable use of bed linens, after all. Hanging them this close to the floor will mean extra laundry when it’s time, eventually, to take their blanket fortress down.

“We’ll leave it up,” Ben says, as if he’s read Armitage’s mind. “No one comes over. It doesn’t get in the way. We’re adults. We can do this stuff if we want.”

He isn’t wrong. They are adults, married, with their own flat, and even though they don’t have children, they have a cat that requires as much responsibility as a small child. But Armitage sighs his disbelief anyway, even as he draws his fingers down Millie’s back, scritching her gently. When, as a child, he imagined his adult self, it was never in a nest of pink blankets and pale grey sheets, with fairy lights above, his husband’s chest at his back, and their British shorthair curled against his front.

“I’m not convinced such indulgences are part of typical adult life,” Armitage specifies. “Even behind closed doors, there are rules for correct behaviour. One of us must maintain the standards.”

What he doesn’t say—because Ben will somehow hear it anyway, through this inexplicable connection they share—is that, while Armitage must hold to his proper standards, it’s equally as essential for Ben to poke at those standards and, in places, to tear them down. Armitage wouldn’t have admitted it before Ben, even to himself, but there’s a place in his life for fun. Pushing the living room’s armchairs close to the sofa, filling the space in the middle with rugs and cushions, and draping the whole with sheets...has been fun, surprisingly so.

Armitage was sceptical when Ben announced his grand vision. With snow on the ground outside, and another blizzard on the way tonight, there will be no leaving the flat for a day or two. Ben’s reasoning lay along those lines, with the additional justification that piling every blanket in the house into the same corner of the flat’s main room would ensure warmth as they cuddle and scroll their phones or laptops, which is what they would be doing anyway, on the sofa or in bed.

Against expectations, Ben has delivered. The fortress is strong in its form and pleasing to the eye, not unlike its maker. The roof sags, the lights twinkle, and inside, the round cushions and thick blankets make everything utterly toasty, especially where Armitage lies between Millicent and Ben. Under his head is the oversized soft toy salamander Ben insisted on bringing back from their honeymoon as a gift for Millicent (though from the start it was obviously more of a gift for Ben). Armitage has grown to appreciate the thing, with time. It has a pleasantly silly face and stubby legs, and, if otherwise useless, it at least makes a fine pillow.

“Hmm,” is Ben’s eventual reply, muffled by the kiss he presses to the back of Armitage’s neck. With the hand that was on Armitage’s hip, Ben tugs a blanket up to cover them, making Millicent wake up, _mrrrp_ , and stretch. She trots to the mouth of the tent of blankets, but she doesn’t flee. Neither does Armitage when Ben pulls him close and strokes a hand through his hair, turning him in his arms, so Armitage can rest his head against Ben’s broad chest.

“On the subject of standards.” Armitage’s voice comes out drowsier than he expected it to. “I don’t mean to suggest this doesn’t meet mine. Or that _you—_ ” 

“I know.” Ben’s words are muffled again, as he kisses the top of Armitage’s head. “I meet all your standards.”

Trust Ben to get cocky now that they’re in a blanket fort, where anything steamier than cuddling would be outright ridiculous to undertake. Ben knows how his occasional easy confidence sets Armitage aflame, just as his typical solemn awkwardness makes Armitage want to fall into his arms and kiss him and tell him he’s sweet and good.

“Every one of them,” Armitage confirms, stroking Ben’s upper arm in unspoken appreciation.

Ben is silent. It’s only when Armitage lifts his head that he can see the surprise on Ben’s face. The tilted eyebrows, the soft puppyish widening of Ben’s eyes, which are bright with pinpricks of reflected light.

“You’re the one who said it,” Armitage chides, and slides his hand up to Ben’s chest. “You have no right to be surprised.”

When Armitage kisses his neck, Ben’s expression turns to one of pleasure. He makes a soft sound between a growl and a purr, rumbling under the skin beneath Armitage’s lips.

Once Armitage pulls away, breathless from worshipping the taut planes of Ben’s throat, Ben rolls over and on top of him, placing his forehead to Armitage’s.

“I won’t get used to it,” Ben murmurs. That mouth, full and kissable, so close to Armitage’s, makes him lose another measure of his breath in spite of himself. Armitage almost misses the rest of Ben’s words.

“How could I get used to you?” Ben is saying, nuzzling Armitage’s small nose with his large one. “You’re warm, and pretty, and you smell good...you want everything to be a certain way, in perfect order...you’re the smartest, too, should be in charge of everything...I wanted to build this like a palace for you, like you could rule an empire, be the Emperor of the entire—”

“Ben,” Armitage cuts in. He’ll ramble himself hoarse without intervention, and Armitage isn’t even the one who has a kink for being praised. “Just kiss me, yes?”

Without hesitation, Ben does—a deep, long kiss. Somehow, as always, his lips taste faintly of salt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).


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